


One More Rose

by midnightsnapdragon



Series: Nostalgia [15]
Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, One-Shot, Pining, Unrequited Love, mutual unrequited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 19:44:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12042939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightsnapdragon/pseuds/midnightsnapdragon
Summary: It's Rose Day in their office, and Cress knows exactly whose flower-box will be receiving her token of love. The problem is, Carswell Thorne already has far too many roses from his multitude of admirers. One more wouldn't matter to him ... right?





	One More Rose

**i.**

Cress had been looking forward to Rose Day. She'd never participated in a Flower Week before, but it was apparently a tradition at her new workplace, and she found that she liked it. It had made her feel all fuzzy inside to receive daffodils from her friends in the office and to give them affectionate flowers herself.

Rose Day was special, though: the flowers were anonymous and definitely of a more romantic nature. Receiving a rose was like finding a note from a secret admirer. And Cress had known immediately, when the whole idea was explained the idea to her, what she wanted to do.

She bought the rose, after having mulled over the florist's selection for at least fifteen minutes. She begged off from her daily coffee break with Scarlet and Cinder. And then, having secured the necessary time and privacy (stars, if anyone was around when she tried to make her move, she wouldn't be able to work up the nerve!), she tiptoed into the common room where the flower-boxes were kept.

With one last glance over her shoulder, Cress gathered her courage and lifted the lid of the box labelled _Carswell Thorne._

And her heart plummeted.

It was full of roses. There were at least a dozen, which was about half the number of people in their department – small and tight-knit as it was. There were some white and yellow blooms among the red, but most of them were that shade of dark wine that declared passionate love.

Cress just stood and stared down into the box. Something about this sight made her want to cry.

He already had so many admirers. When he opened his flower-box at the end of the day, she knew, the sheer number of roses would only serve to let him know exactly how popular he was in their office, how handsome everyone thought him to be.

(Not that he didn't already know that. Thorne was many things, but he was not even a little bit modest.)

And Cress wasn't any different from the rest of them, was she?

Slowly, deliberately, she replaced the lid of the box.

One more rose wouldn't matter to him.

**ii.**

Thorne had frozen in surprise when he'd seen her, the mug of coffee raised halfway to his lips. He'd walked in from around the corner of the common room to see Cress Darnel, and his first thought was, _oh stars, it's her! Smile!_

But she didn't notice him.

Of course not. She never did. All his practised charms had been lost on her from the day she'd stepped into the office.

And it hadn't mattered to him, not really … until he started to notice things.

Cress was smart, very smart. The kind of smart that made him look at her in amazement from the other side of the conference room, listening as she explained some complicated logic to their colleagues. And she was sort of pretty. She hummed while she worked and didn't seem to realise it. She always had a smile for everyone – a warm, bright smile that said _I'm so happy to see you_ \- and he found himself wishing that she would turn it on him, just once, so that he could smile back.

He started to wish a lot of things.

So when Thorne saw her walk up to his flower-box with a rose in her hand, he nearly dropped the coffee. A mixture of surprise and delight whirled through his thoughts and he suddenly had a vision of himself approaching her later, asking her out for lunch, how she would look shy and say _well, okay, I'm free tomorrow at around two_ –

Cress peered into his flower-box for a full minute as he stood motionless on the threshold, holding his breath. After a moment, she put the lid back, turned away so that her long hair screened her face, and walked away. The rose drooped dejectedly from her hand.

Thorne stood there in confusion for a few seconds.

Then he set down his coffee on someone's newspaper and came forward to look into the flower-box himself.

He wasn't surprised at all the roses it has accumulated. In fact, he could probably name all the men and women who have given them to him. Every day he caught them watching him out of the corner of their eyes – hopefully, shyly, sometimes lustfully. It had only ever swelled his ego.

But not now. Not now.

A sting of regret passed through him as he glanced back in the direction in which Cress had disappeared.

He would rather have one rose from her than any number of the others.


End file.
